


The Journal of a Struggling Anorexic

by Hiway202



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Diary/Journal, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Eating Disorders, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Originally Posted on FictionPress.com, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-10-27 23:19:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10818852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiway202/pseuds/Hiway202
Summary: This is a story about a girl named Elencia who struggles with the beginning of an eating disorder, Depression, DID, and more. Read through her struggles and feel how she feels.





	1. Chapter 1

**11/27/14**

Life is hard.

Hey! I'm Elencia and if you are reading this you have gotten into my private things and are reading my private journal  _and_  you crossed the line so you should just put this away right now and never dig through my stuff again!

Anyways, now that's out of my system, as I was saying I'm Elencia Jones. Sometimes people call me Cia which is cool, I guess. I'm 15 and a half years old and a Sophomore at Summerville High School.

Today is November 27, 2014 which is also Thanksgiving. My mom is busy with the turkey in the kitchen. Meanwhille I have a lot to think about right now.

Let me start off be explaning. I have a mental illness. I have Clinical Depression. I started as a cutter back in 8th grade so, let's see, that must have been 2012. At first it was just with a protracter and they were just scratches, but eventually I toar apart a razor and got some real blades. Once my friend Elysa gave me a knife blade from her kitchen that was really sharp. I loved that blade, it made the deepest cuts and I loved it, but when I didn't go to school one day Elysa told the pricipal I was cutting and my parents found out. Not wanting to get her in trouble I threw away the blade.

I went to my first counselor. She was okay. All she did was DBT skills with me, though. I didn't like it. Once, she was sick, so we stopped seeing her and we never rescheduled.

I started cutting on and off throughout 2013 but once in October it got really bad and I cut all over my arms. There was not a clear spot on them. I was afraid I was going to kill myself so I told that to Elysa and she and I to my principal and that's how I went to the ER. Then I went to the psych ward. I was there for 9 days, then the next time I went I was there for 5 before I left for a few hours and then imediately went back. I spent Christmas in there, but I left for New Years. Then, I went back 2 more times, and that's it.

But you know, that's not the reason I started this journal today, that's why that story isn't in detail.

I started this journal because I am to fat. And I need to loose weight. And the only logical way to do that is to eat less. But I hate food. I don't want to eat at all. But I love food. It's so comforting. So, I have decided that I am just not going to eat. I'll eat Thanksgiving meal and then, I won't eat.

But that is so hard to do. I hate food.

So dinner's ready now so I guess I should eat. And stuff myself.

* * *

And that's exactly what I did. Two servings of turkey, three servings of stuffing, and five servings of mashed potatoes and gravy. I feel so stuffed now. And so guilty. And we haven't even had desert yet. Elencia, promise yourself you won't have anymore food today.

* * *

And you had pumpkin pie. Why? Good thing it was only one slice. But still fat and tons of calories I'm sure.

I could puke. I won't, but I could.

I think I'm going to be sick.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**11/28/14**

The day after Thanksgiving is always hard as people put on a few pounds from the Thanksgiving mean they ate the day before. It's really hard for me, however, because I just look at myself and all I can think is:

Fat.

Fat.

Fat.

Fat.

Fat.

Fat.

Fatfatfatfatfatfatfatfatfatfatfatfatfatfatfatfat.

143 pounds of fatness. And with a height of either 5' 6" or 5' 7" that is really, really FAT!

My mom warms up the leftovers for tonight's dinner and my dad prepares the potatoes. I watch as he pulls out ten potatoes and the part of me that loves food and loves just eating and eating and eating and eating (probably binge eating as I've heard it called before) yells out cook more. My dad then makes me prepare the potatoes. I don't even want to eat!

I start pealing and almost skin my finger, chipping my usually long fingernail off.

"Ouch," I cry, but no one comes. After apologizing to my dad for like, the tenth time, he finally helps me.

I overeat at dinner again. This time, my mom notices.

"Elencia," she warns, not wanting me to gain anymore weight.

Great. _Insert eye roll here._

At dinner I ate one serving off turkey, three servings of stuffing, and four of mashed potatoes and gravy. No desert tonight for me.

I do, however, have a snack of more mashed potatoes and stuffing before bed. No wonder I weigh so much.

* * *

**11/29/14**

Homework.

That's all I have to do today. I have to get caught up on my work for school. School starts up again on the first. I am not looking forward to that.

I have a report on Ferguson, MO (I have no comment on what happened so don't ask) and it takes me four hours to finish the one page paper. Once I finish it, I ask my mom and dad if we can have a family game night so I don't have to focus on the dinner I ate (only one serving this time, and yes, I only eat dinner) but my dad makes me do some math. I spend a half hour arguing with him about how unfair that is and once I finish and actually do the work, I ask for the family game night again. The answer is no.

"You spent the whole time arguing with dad about your stupid math assignment and I couldn't hear my show," my mom says. "Do you really think that I would have a family game night with you after that?"

They spend about half an hour lecturing me and it triggers me. Suddenly, I feel suicidal. I want to die.

"So, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"I love you," I tell them as I start crying, knowing I may not ever see them again as I'm about to kill myself.

"Well, obviously you're not listening if that's your answer," my mom says as she dismisses me. I go into my room and grab my pencil sharpener blade. It's only half because it broke when I was taking it apart.

I enter the bathroom that I share with my sister off of the room that I share with my sister. I make four deep cuts in my arm, pressing as hard as I can. Then I turn the warm water on quietly and hold my arm underneath it. It stings. After a little while with this obviously not working I take my arm out and turn the water off. The blood bubbles up, but it's not enough to kill me. Dammit.

I am furious. Being this mad I push extra hard on the blade and bring one more cut in. It's deep. Deep. Deep. But not deep enough. Sigh.

Someone enters my sister's and my room. Uh, oh. One minute later my dad says, "Elencia?"

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah!"

Silence.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes."

More silence.

"Elencia, you need to open the door."

"I can't. I'm naked."

"Then maybe your mom needs to come in then. I need to make sure you're okay."

Shit. That's what ran through my mind. I wrap my blade up in my washcloth and dab the washcloth against my skin one more time to try and stop the bleeding. It doesn't work. Whatever. I shove the washcloth with the blade hidden inside in my bathroom drawer and open the bathroom door or else I know they are just going to come inside with their key.

When I exit the bathroom into my room, no one is in there. Strange. Then, my dad and mom enter my sister's and my room.

"What do you want, Elencia," she asks when she enters the room.

"Nothing." I'm crying.

"Show me your arms."

"No."

"Show me your arms." She said it more firmly that time.

"No!" She tries to pull my sleeves up, but I hold them down, but I can't hold them down forever. She and my dad see.

"Why are you doing this, Elencia!"

"I don't know."

"Well, you have to be out here now." She says. Out here means the living room. My mom is being really un-understanding about this. That's weird considering she has suffered from depression too and she is usually understanding.

I hate my life.


End file.
